


You Built an Empire Inside of Me Just to Tear It Down

by orphan_account



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Ryden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 16:24:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4144545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a comment Zack made in a periscope. "I've only ever hugged Brendon twice in my life. The first time was during a very emotional time in his life which I won't get into. The second time was at his wedding."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Built an Empire Inside of Me Just to Tear It Down

**Author's Note:**

> Content/trigger warning for drug mentions. Violence. Dubious consent maybe? There's no rape and I don't consider it dubious consent, the parties are consenting, it's just kind of a violent sex scene. Just trying to warn you ahead of time and give you enough info to decide if you wanna read on for yourself without spoiling.
> 
> *edit* i added in the fact that ryan and brendon have a safe word after rereading this and realizing just how dub-con/non-con this came across at the time. Its like in my head when i initially wrote it at like 5 am i didnt think about those little things. Anyway sorry about that. They have a safe word so if brendon didnt want it hed say it and theyd stop

My heart is racing and I've got one hand clutched around my phone, thumb on the call button ready to dial 911, other hand clenched in a fist at my side ready to defend myself if need be. Ryan has never been like this. I've never seen him go to these extremes. I didn't realize it was this bad.

"Babe, please, please just tell me where it is. I am begging you to tell me where you put it."

Ryan is frantically searching through the bed sheets, throwing clothes in every direction and emptying pockets, opening the bedside table drawers and flipping through the pages of the bible and book of mormon every hotel puts in their rooms. His eyes are like saucers, hair a mess, pupils dilated. He looks like a caged animal.

I feel sick.

"Ryan please stop. You're scaring me." My throat is closing around the words and it's hard for me to get them out. I've seen some shit. Done some shit. Been through some shit.

But I've never seen anything like this.

"Okay. Okay. Okay, okay okay okay." Ryan starts speaking quickly, his body visibly thrumming and sweat gathering on his upper lip. "Okay. Baby? Angel? My love? Sunshine?"

He steps toward me and I step back, my ass hits the bathroom door with a thump and I feel cornered.

"Give me the shit. It's not yours, okay? You didn't pay for it. It doesn't belong to you. Now please give it to me, okay?" He's so close to me I can feel his hot breath against my lips.

I have never in my life been more scared.

"Ryan I told you I don't have it. I flushed it, okay? It's gone." I swallow and try to gather some courage. "We're done with this. This? The cocaine? It's over. You're done. You promised me you'd stop but you didn't."

"SO WHAT, YOU'RE GONNA PUNISH ME LIKE A CHILD?" He roars. He flings himself around and starts stomping toward his suitcase again, checking the same spots he's been checking for the past half an hour. "YOU'RE LYING TO ME, BREN. WHERE IS IT."

"I FUCKING FLUSHED IT." My grip on my phone is still tight. I've never seen him this violent.

I'm not lying to him. I really did flush it after the show tonight. I checked every single one of his usual hiding places and flushed it all.

We're done here. No more of this.

He doubles over on his suitcase and starts tearing at his hair, rocking back and forth on his knees.

"You're lying. You're fucking lying to me." He's crying into a pile of dirty clothes now. He looks so fucking small and broken.

"I'm not lying Ryan, it's gone. All of it. It's gone. Please, no more of this. _I'm_ begging _you_. I don't want you in rehab, please. But if you need to go to rehab, then you're fucking going." I take an extremely tentative step toward him.

He jolts up and looks over at me, hair in his face, eyes rimmed red.

"You can't make me do shit. I'm an adult. You can't put me in rehab without my consent." Tears are streaming down his face now and his words are choppy and his voice is cracking.

"End up in jail then, Ry. See if I fuckin' care. You wanna rot? You rot. You wanna do this the hard way? Go ahead. I'm not stopping you." My voice is raised now. I feel like I have enough of an upper hand that I can put my phone in my pocket and deal with the situation with, at the very least, less fear than before.

He's crumbling before me and I have to stand tall. Be his pillar. Keep it together.

"I don't know what to do." He sits on the floor, legs spread, his suitcase between his legs and wrinkled clothes surrounding him like a protective barrier.

"Just let me help you." I take another step forward. Hold my breath.

"I feel like I'm going to kill myself without it." He hangs his head and sniffs roughly. God he's a mess. He's my mess.

"I'm not going to let you." My heart rate isn't slowing down. God, he'll be the death of me. But if that's the case, that's how I want to go.

He'll never be able to grasp how much I love him. How much I put up with from him. How much I want to stay.

"Brendon..." He's breaking into full sobs now and I boldly get down on my knees beside him.

"We can get through this." I say that but I know I'm not sure if it's true. But sometimes we lie to people to protect them, to make them feel better. To make ourselves feel better.

"I can't. I can't Brendon, I'm telling you I can't." I've never seen him cry like this. My heart is breaking.

I go to reach out for him, to pull him into a tight embrace, but before I can he's rising up on his knees and attaching his mouth to mine. He kisses me and the kiss is full of saliva and snot. It's probably the grossest kiss I've ever been apart of. But it's okay because he needs this. He needs me.

Ryan is gripping my head tightly, nails digging sharply into my scalp as he tilts his head to mold our messy mouths together. Our teeth click and our tongues slide, making the most obscene noises.

He pulls away for a split second, breathing against the corner of my mouth.

"Bend over the bed." It's a demand but it's a soft and breathy one.

I nod furiously and clumsily rise to throw the upper half of my body over the bed. I've never really liked this position. Don't like it when I can't see his face. Can't watch him bite his bottom lip and furrow his brow and slip his eyes shut. I like it better when we're both involved and aware and present. But I do what I'm told. If he wants this, wants it this way, okay. Fine. Anything. Please, just no more of the drugs. No more of the fights and the hurtful words and the violent hate-fucking. No more of the Ryan who isn't my Ryan.

I unbutton my jeans and unbuckle my belt and wait for him to do whatever it is he's going to do to me. Keep my face buried in the sheets and my arms around my head.

Behind me I hear the sound of his zipper and his belt buckle jingling. I can hear him spitting into his palm and slicking himself up. God he's not even going to finger me. What the fuck am I doing. What the fuck am I letting him do to me?

He yanks my jeans down around my ass and starts to spread my cheeks with one hand as I spread my legs for him.

"Fuck, Bren, that's my good boy."

I flinch at the words.

_'My good boy.'_

His claim on me.

Yeah I'm his boy. His good boy.

Every inch of my body is tense and I am nowhere near ready to take him. He's big and he knows it, and every once in a while he likes to show off in ways like this. In violent violent ways like this.

He's rubbing the head of his cock against my hole and even that makes my guts burn and twist with anticipation. It's not the good kind of anticipation. I don't know what it is.

And with that, he's forcing his way inside of me. I grasp at the sheets around me, knuckles going white, eyelids crushing together painfully. It burns and stretches and I feel like I'm being torn from the inside out. But it's fine. God, it's fine.

 _Safe word_ , I remember. _If it gets to be to much just say our safe word. We have a safe word._

But I don't say it. Don't want to say it. I'm fine.

Ryan lets out a long drawn out moan behind me as the head pops in and he slides all the way inside. It's fire inside of me. Everything is fire. The whole room is ablaze.

I'm hyperventilating as I reach down and start to try to grasp and tug at my own cock. Anything to relieve some of this tension and fire.

"So tight. So fucking tight." Ryan slurs behind me. He pulls out slowly, inch by inch, and slams back inside without warning.

I whine and bite at my lip. I can taste blood in my mouth.

He picks up a steady rhythm, his long slender fingers bruising my flesh where he grips and pulls at me, skin smacking against skin with every pump of his hips, and I'm rutting against the bed and into my own hand trying to find some form of relief from the screaming in my body. It takes a while for the pain to dull to a steady buzz inside of me, but it's enough that I can start to focus on my own arousal. I start to fear that Ryan is going to come before I can and that scares me. It's not that I necessarily care who comes first, but I like it when we can come together. Or at the very least come close enough together that we're not tossing wet washcloths at each other and leaving before the other one can finish. That isn't something I would do to him but it is something he would do to me. I have enough experience with him fucking me and leaving me to jack off into shower drains to know. I didn't used to have a problem with coming too fast, but he's forced me to develop one. It's not even a problem in our relationship. It's a necessity.

But he doesn't care right now. And that's fine. This is fine.

I keep repeating that to myself in my head.

This is fine. This is fine. Everything's going to be fine.

His hips are snapping forward erratically now and I know he's close. I've never tried to jack myself off this fast or furiously in my life. I'm desperate to orgasm with him but that buzz of pain and fire is still enough to hold me back.

"God, Ryan. Fuck." I push my sweaty forehead into the mattress and start tugging at my own hair. It's all too much.

I can feel his hands pushing my shirt up, snaking up my spine and then nails raking down my skin. I can feel hot welts form where he's scraped at my tender and sensitive flesh. He leans down and presses his forehead against the crumpled tshirt scrunched up my back.

And suddenly he's letting go, shooting hot and hard inside of me and heaving over top of me.

I stop touching myself. I'm not going to finish.

This is fine. This is fine. This is fine.

We stay still like that, save for our chests expanding and collapsing with our breath. It's nothing but sweat and heat and salt and tears.

It takes a while, but Ryan finally pulls out and tucks himself into his jeans. I stay like I am, sprawled over the side of the bed, hard cock in my hand, Ryan's come spilling out of me and down my thigh.

"Oh, _fuck_." Ryan swears. And I know he's watching his come slip out of me. He fucking loves that. Loves watching his DNA roll out of my raw hole that squeezes and clenches around nothing once he vacates my body.

I gulp down the saliva that has accumulated in my mouth and stand slowly, my muscles screaming and tearing away from my bones in every direction. He's made sure that I feel how he feels inside right now. Made sure that I get a fraction of what he's going through.

My ass feels decimated.

I pull my pants up and try to cover myself, give myself a little dignity even though my ass is full of come and my cock is still hard and uncared for in my hand. I don't turn around. Don't want to look at him yet.

"Did you come?" Ryan asks.

I laugh. It's a short and concise 'ha,' and I still won't turn around. I'm not ready.

"So am I a chick now?" I laugh again, but this time deeper and more throaty. " _'Did you come...'_ Jesus."

"Whatever." I can hear him turning around behind me. Moving on to something or somewhere else.

"For the record, no. I did not. That was quite possibly the worst sex I've ever had." I'm trying to tuck my erection into my jeans but it's definitely putting up a fight. I get it in though, and once I've finally zipped myself up I turn around to face the man I've stupidly chosen to love.

"Sorry." He mumbles.

He's standing over his suitcase with a cigarette between his lips and a lighter in his hand. He's shaking and helplessly trying to light the cigarette.

"I thought you quit." I say flatly.

He stops trying to light the damn thing and glares at me.

"Of all the fuckin' things you're going to be... Jesus Bren." He shakes his head and gets back to trying to light the cigarette.

"I didn't mean anything by... Christ." I cross the room quickly and snatch the lighter out of his hands. I flick the lighter and lift it up to the tip of the cigarette as he slips both of his hands over my fist and holds the flame in place. The cigarette glows. Smoke plumes out of his mouth as he sucks in and breathes out.

He's still shaking. He's white as a sheet and sweat's still pouring off of him.

God, my poor baby.

I toss the lighter back into Ryan's suitcase. He walks away from me. Draws the shades covering the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony, pulls the door open, and walks out.

I follow him.

We're standing next to each other in silence with the wind tousling our hair for what feels like a decade but I know it's been nothing more than a few minutes. Ryan leans against the concrete wall that he could so easily jump from and I slip my arm under and around his, gripping onto him for dear life. I'm so full of fear. Fear that he's going to get it in his head that death is better than this, and throw himself over. We're 9 stories up. He wouldn't survive.

He's smoking quietly and I'm crushing my body against his.

"Babe it's fine. I'm not gonna jump." He flicks his ashes over the balcony and slowly blows smoke into the wind.

I swallow and loosen my grip. Give him my trust.

He stands back a little and pulls me into his chest in front of him, putting an extra barrier between him and the edge. He's got his chin hooked over my shoulder, one arm around my midsection and his other resting on the concrete in front of us with the cigarette lazily teetering between his fingers.

He kisses behind my ear and lets his lips linger, breathing in.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

My throat closes.

"I know." I respond. But I don't know. I don't. Who's to say this is the last time. Who's to say we won't do this exact same thing in a week.

He sways with me a little bit and puts his arm around my neck, pulling the cigarette back to his lips and taking a drag.

"Please tell me this is it, Ryan." I shiver as a particularly cool gust of wind hits me.

Ryan attaches his mouth to the crook of my neck and bites down, sucking and working on a visible bruise. More marks. More claims. More little signs and signals that I belong to him. He hums and breathes out through his nose onto my skin.

"Ryan..." I half-moan. I grab onto the arm he has wrapped around me and lean into him.

He pulls away from my neck and licks over the sensitive spot he's claimed. Places a soft wet kiss over it.

"I'm done okay. I'm done." His voice is so assuring.

But God I don't believe him.

He backs up again and let's me turn around, let's me face him. I place my hands on his chest and he flicks the cigarette butt away.

"I promise, okay." His lips find mine and he tastes like Marlboros and he tastes like him. He tastes like faux reassurance. He tastes like a very sweet lie.

"Okay." I whisper against his lips.

Our stubbles mingle and scratch each other's faces raw as we stand on this balcony, making out and not caring who can see. He reaches down and rubs the heel of his palm over my still-half-hard cock.

"I'm sorry I was so rough with you." He nips at my bottom lip and applies steady pressure to my crotch.

I let my head roll back and expose my neck, expose the spot he was working on moments previously, and he attaches himself back to it like a leech.

I forgive you. Yeah, I forgive you.

"Want you..." I find myself murmuring toward the stars above us.

It's stupid how much I let him get to me. Stupid how much he turns me on.

Everyone who knows about us tells me, God Bren, you could do so much better. Why do you let him fuck with you? Why do you let him use you and keep you his dirty little secret? What are you doing?

But fuck, they don't see what I see in him. They don't see how he loves me under dark skies and restaurant table tops. How he kisses me when backs are turned and curtains are drawn. And I know I deserve to be loved in front of the world, on roof tops, under blue skies. But he promises me, soon. Soon I'll leave her. Soon I'll make you my one and only. Soon I'll let the world know that you're mine and I'm yours.

And I believe him every fucking time.

It doesn't take long before Ryan is on his knees in front of me, unzipping me and taking me into his mouth, swallowing me down like it's nothing. And it probably is nothing. I'm aware of my painfully slightly under-average size and much like me, he lacks a working gag reflex.

I don't allow myself to last. A couple licks, sucks, gentle kisses and laps placed at my head later and I'm gone. I'm releasing into his mouth and he's taking it all but he's not swallowing, just sucking at my head and staring up at me with large honey colored eyes that I can never fucking resist.

He pulls away and opens his mouth, showing me all of the come I pumped into his mouth. He rolls his tongue around a little before swallowing and opening his mouth wide again, showing me that it's all gone.

He always know what it takes to get me to bend and break and fall for him. He's such a bastard.

I card my fingers through his overgrown curls as he tucks me back inside of my pants.

"I love you."

I'm saying the words as he's rising up to meet me and he shuts me up with his mouth. Typical. He won't say it back. He'll just kiss the breath out of me til I forget.

 

\--

 

I leave Ryan's room around 4 am. Usually I would just stay with him but we need some time apart to cool down. I leave him with my trust. Trust that he won't hurt himself. Trust that he won't fuck a stranger. Trust that he won't go looking for more drugs.

And maybe just for tonight I believe that he won't do any of those things.

I know I shouldn't be going anywhere without Zack but I need to be alone. It's the wee hours of the morning. I highly doubt I'll be recognized or attacked or... Whatever. But if I am, fuck it. I'll deal.

I take a walk around the block. Clear my mind. Breathe.

The sun is coming up now as i reapproach the hotel and I take a seat on the curb outside. I'm not ready to go inside. Not ready to come back down into reality.

Everything starts crashing in at once as I stare out at the sun rising in the east. The sky is clear, stars are still there but they're fading. Pinks and purples are slathered across the horizon like a child finger painted the scene with pastels.

I bite my lip as a lump rises in my throat and Ryan's stupid stupid words crawl their way to the forefront of my mind.

 _"You ever get mad at the sun?"_ He'd ask.

 _"Why?"_ I'd half smile and giggle and lean into his chest. Let him hold me like I'm ever-so small.

_"Because it's always trying to outshine you. Absolutely deplorable. Unforgivable. Nothing can outshine my boy."_

And we'd kiss and I'd laugh against his lips and everything was simple and we were so young and unafraid.

I find myself crying like a fool over the memory.

It doesn't take long for me to start convulsing into full sobs. I can't get control of my breath or my stomach. I'm hiccuping and leaning over my knees, covering my head with my arms.

Suddenly there's a strong, firm hand on my shoulder and I'm jolting up and out of my unreality. I haven't even been inside of my body for the past 10 minutes. I don't feel like Brendon. I don't know who I am.

I look up.

It's Zack.

He takes a seat next to me with a loud groan and clears his throat.

"I guess I'm gettin' pretty old." He says nonchalantly as he stretches his joints and they crackle.

I sit up straighter and wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands, hopelessly trying to gain my composure and man-up around Zack.

"Ehhh don't bother. Don't put on a brave face for me. If you need to cry, cry. Don't let me stop you." He pulls a cigar and a lighter out of his shirt pocket and begins smoking.

He doesn't say anything now. He's waiting for me to break the silence.

We sit for a while, listen to the sounds of the birds tweeting and the world coming alive around us. He waits for me to become stable enough to speak.

I swallow hard.

"I... I'm sorry." I break down again. I can't keep it together. I just can't and I'm so sorry about it.

"What did he do?" Zack doesn't look at me. Just stares straight ahead and puffs at his cigar.

I rest my elbows on my knees and put my face in my hands. Rub the tears away roughly.

"He's doing cocaine again."

"That skinny fucker. I fuckin' knew it. I'll kill him." His head drops and he shakes it disbelievingly.

"He said he'd stop." I'm still crying but I can at least speak now. I begin picking at a weed growing out of a crack in the pavement.

"How many times have we heard that one before." Zack scoffs.

"I know." I reply sadly.

"Weed? Fine. Shrooms? Whatever. Hey, do some acid, I don't give a shit. But you guys start dabblin' in shit like cocaine, meth, heroin, I'll fuckin' kill you. I was raised by hippies okay, I know my fair share about drugs. You don't fuck with that shit, Brendon. It ruins lives."

"Tell that to him, not me." I bite back.

He sighs.

"Yeah... Yeah I know."

"I don't know how much more I can take, Zack."

I'm falling apart. I'm losing control of everything. I'm losing control of things I never even had control of in the first place.

"I'm so sorry, kid."

I've never heard Zack's voice sound that sad. That apologetic. That defeated. Zack Hall defeats, he doesn't get defeated. But this is so beyond his or anyone else's capabilities.

I suck my bottom lip into my teeth trying to bite back the tears that are re-welling in my eyes. But I can't. The tears leak down my face.

I laugh. It's fake. It's sad. But it's a laugh.

"I love him."

"I know."

"I love him so much."

"I know."

I'm laughing and crying all at once into my rough, calloused hands.

"I love him and he doesn't fucking deserve my love. He's never shown me once that he deserves what I give him but I keep giving and giving and _giving_. And he keeps fucking me and dating her and fucking every other living breathing thing that walks on two legs. And he keeps saying 'I'll leave her, I'll leave her. Baby, we can move in together and we can be public and we'll fight the good fight together.' But he never does." I find my voice steadily rising as rage bubbles deep within my chest and I continue ranting this rant that I've never before ranted, not even to myself. "And I look at him and I say, 'I love you, Ryan.' And I stand there or lay there or sit there and I wait for him to say it back like a fucking _fool_ but he never does. He just goes, 'I know.' Or he kisses me and tries to shut me up and make me forget that he's afraid of commitment."

Zack is staring at me intently now, letting his cigar extinguish as he holds it between his thumb and forefinger.

"He doesn't love me."

Oh God.

Everything inside of my implodes. Collapses inward and sets on fire. Rome is falling inside of my chest.

"He doesn't love me, Zack."

I say it with a calm, bitter, sadness. Tears are still streaking my cheeks but they're drying up now.

I'm hyperventilating but there are no more tears left in me. I'm crying without the tears now.

"God. Oh God. Oh _God_."

I'm having a panic attack now. I've always had problems with anxiety but I haven't experienced an attack this strong and incapacitating in fucking ages. I'm mad at Ryan that he does this to me. That he's the reason I sob and lose sleep and smile and laugh and hurt and hyperventilate on fucking curbs outside of Marriots.

"Why doesn't he love me? What can't I give him? I don't understand. I don't _understand_."

There's a beat of silence before Zack sighs heavily and pipes up.

"Ryan... Is a complicated kid. I know him just as well as I know you at this point. As well as I know Spencer and Jon and anyone else who's been with this band for the past couple years. But Ryan... Is one code I can't crack. He's fucked up. He's got demons and ghosts and skeletons in his closet that you can't clean out for him, Brendon. And you need to accept that. You can't be his savior. You can't fix his childhood. Can't fix all the emotional damage from an alcoholic abusive father.  You can't somehow cure all of his weird internalized homophobia and self hate. You're not his keeper. And you need to buck up and move the fuck on."

I glare at him, my lip turned up in disgust at his bluntness.

"Yeah yeah yeah, you don't wanna hear this shit right now. But you need to. Ryan is not your fuckin' problem. He's a big boy. People can't fix people. People can only fix themselves. No more chances for him. He's shown you time and time again that he is not worth your chances. Enough is enough. Be done."

"But what if I walk away and he starts in with the drugs and the drinking again? What if I'm the _only_ thing keeping him sober?" I shouldn't be this worried for him but I can't help it.

"Once again, not your fuckin' problem. You. Are. Not. His. Keeper. It's his job to check himself into rehab, his job to clean up his act, his job to grow the fuck up. You can not sacrifice your health and happiness for his sorry, sad ass."

Zack makes so much sense but it all hurts so much.

I need to move on but what do I do when there's nothing for me to move on to? Ryan has made me feel like there's no life beyond him. Without him, I'm nothing. Without him, I'm empty.

What do I fucking do.

"You're not in this alone, Brendon. I won't let you go this alone. I'm here for you man."

With that, he's pulling me into a tight hug.

I'm at a loss for words. In all my years of knowing and working with Zack, he's never hugged me once. But I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.

I release a shuddery breath and hug him back. But before it can get too awkward by Zack-standards, he pats my back and releases me.

"You've got this. You can do it." He says reassuringly.

"Yeah. Yeah... Thank you, man. Thank you." I'm nodding and trying my hardest to regulate my breathing. My heart can't take much more. I'm going to end up in the hospital at the tender age of 21. My body will give out and I'll be six feet under by 30.

"Alright let's get you back up to your room. You need some rest, alright?" With a hard grunt, Zack rises to his feet and I follow.

"No visits, okay? You know what I'm talkin' about. Be alone. Reflect. No visits." His eyebrows are raised and he stares me down with intent.

"Yeah. Yeah, no I understand." I respond.

Zack claps a hand on my shoulder and shakes me gently.

"I got your back."

I nod again.

I feel faint and woozy as we make our ways inside. My eyes are blurry with sleep but the world around me has never been clearer.

I'm alive and breathing. I'm young and talented, I'm beautiful and Ryan is by no means the only person who thinks so. There is so much ahead of me.

An empire may have just fallen inside of me, but I will rebuild. I will assemble an army, find myself a king or maybe even a queen.

I will conquer.


End file.
